


Detroit: City Limits

by Lokisweboflies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Android, Angst, Awkward Connor, Character Study, Consensual Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Hackers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Interrogation, Jealous Connor, Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Law Enforcement, Medical Experimentation, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Multi, My First AO3 Post, Mystery, OC, Original Character(s), Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Phobias, Post-Game, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Redemption, Romance, Sassy Connor, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, Slow Burn, TCA, The Connor Army, Therapy, Undercover, deviant, deviant roombas, good guy kamski, i will add more tags, sassier hank, slightly dialogue heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisweboflies/pseuds/Lokisweboflies
Summary: Connor is still learning how to cope in the new city with his newfound emotions and deviancy. When the creation of the first cyborg happens to be Kamski's own sister, the precinct's latest addition as the lead medical examiner and forensic toxicologist, Connor is tasked to help her understand her android-identity while she helps Connor piece together the latest mystery plaguing throughout the city. Together with a fatherly Hank, the trio tries to understand their place in the new world while also dealing with each other and the baggage they each carry.This will be a slow burn, long fic so please buckle up and enjoy the ride. No exact chapter count or length but I will try to post regularly.





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there everyone!
> 
> First thing's first: I claim no rights whatsoever to anything and everything related to Detroit: Become Human with the exception of my own creative direction of the elements found within the video game and lore of this story from this point onward. Any and all similarities to other fics are purely coincidental and unintentional. Additionally, I just wish to have some fun in writing and in no way intend to offend or otherwise trigger someone with some of the themes related to although not limited to identity issues, depression, past trauma, or self-esteem issues. I can speak only on behalf of my own issues with these themes and my own creative interpretations of these issues in a realistic manner towards this story. 
> 
> Sorry to get all deep and heavy but I just wanted to make sure I don't unintentionally dig myself into a hole. 
> 
> Aside, this is my first fanfic and I'm excited to share your enthusiasm and love of these characters with me. It's somewhat of a character study for me and I wish to post several lengthy chapters into something that's a joy to read and that's a joy to do, even if I'm sometimes messy on the details. Forgive me. Recommendations are welcome. This is a public piece after all. As much as this story is mine it is also to an extent yours. Feel free to drop a comment or toss a kudos every once in a while. Motivate this lazy author to work!

2:42a

January 01, 2040

Airspeed 11 km/m

Wind Chill -10 F

Air Temperature 13 F

Location Detroit River Bridge

Elevation 238 ft

Present: Lieutenant An---

  


“Hold it Google, I asked ‘what do we got?’ not ‘what’s everything you know about the scene?’” Hank rubs his temple and sighs. “Kid, not everything I say is literal.”

 

“I know.” Connor stopped vocalizing his notes and glances at Hank pulling his tuxedo lapels tighter against his chest in the frigid wind.

 

“Then why-”

 

“If I did not occasionally write a report would there ever be one?”

 

“You little shi-”

 

“I am simply being efficient. Starting now.”

 

“Hmm,” Hank smirks to himself and notices a ghost of a smile forming on Connor; his eyes twinkling. “Okay smartass, finish this scene. This damn monkey suit is making me itch.”

 

“It is a pleasant if incomplete look.”

 

Connor scans Lieutenant Hank’s attire. He's wearing a full piece suit; from the waist up. Casual jeans and boots jar against the formality of the crisp and ironed tux. Connor takes a quick scan of himself and notes how appropriately dressed he was for tonight's New Year's party the city mayor's office and police precinct threw for their officers and respective officials. He notes how his navy blue suit looks as sharp and as blemish free as the day he bought it - yesterday. Hank was reluctant to attend the party to celebrate the city's successful handling and creation of pro-Android laws enacted in the wake of the peaceful Android protests with the two of them receiving honorary awards for their acts. The precinct even hired Connor as the world’s first Android Detective. He ended up convincing Hank to attend on the fact that there was an open bar at the event rather than meeting the professional and social expectations of the job and honor. Connor had a great time conversing with the many politicians and officers that wished to protect people like him. _People._ The word made Connor’s cheeks fondly warm blue. Deviants like him were slowly but surely being accepted into society. They were working alongside humans and deviant advocates like Markus to fight for their rights and happiness. Despite meeting a few vehemently anti-android members at the party, Connor enjoyed every single of the 196 minutes they spent there. Even Hank described the event as a bunch of, ‘animals kissing each other's ass’. An unusual metaphor for sure, Connor thinks. He'll have to ask Hank later for some clarification on that expression. Connor makes a mental note to remind him. He turns to look at the flashing blue and red patrol cars blocking off the road.

 

“Your outfit does not match the social context of tonight’s event despite the charm of your personality it may convey.”

 

“I'm not taking fashion advice from a robot.” Hank scoffs. He walks towards the roped off section of the bridge and Connor quickly walks step by step beside him. “Especially you.”

 

Connor steps underneath the caution tape when Hank lifts it for him. “Why? A simple search can allow me to analyze the most desirable looks for someone based on context, personality, and physique. Even you can be improved upon.”

 

Hank continues heading to the heart of the crime scene, stopping at the edge of a giant hole on the side of the bridge’s high-speed railing. Two continuous row of glass-plated barriers with protective beams stick up out of the ground and run parallel to the street separating the road, the sidewalk, and the ledge from one another. The road itself appears cluttered along the glass walls where deep skid marks have run through the barriers and have shattered them completely. The blackened path bends and snaps against unnaturally angled divider beams only to be completely deprived of debris at the gaping void the impact left when it finally broke through and vanished. Connor looks down several hundred feet to see icy cold water churn dark waters within its icy deep depths. “Son, are you calling me ugly?”

 

Connor takes a scan of the drop-off. Briefly leaning over he can see the Detroit search and rescue boats alongside the dive team retrieve the back end of an automatic car onto it’s towing dock. It’s a newer model released several months ago to one of four dealerships around the city. He takes an additional scan of the road, the metallic debris, and of the hole in the bridge.

 

_Reconstruction sequence initiating._

 

_Model Automatic Car SV7900 took severe damage when a vehicle from an opposing direction swerved into oncoming traffic forcing the car to run into the support poles and dividers edging the bridge. High speeds and great forces allowed the vehicle to break the barriers and fall into the river. No signs of the opposing car swerving to avoid danger; skid marks belong to the submerged vehicle’s tires. Vehicle tread marks match the victim._

 

_Reconstruction Sequence Terminating._

 

Connor hums. “Maybe.”

 

Hank claps Connor’s shoulder and laughs. “I never woulda thought you tin cans had a sense of humor-” Connor can feel the warmth of Hank’s hand vanish when he pulls away, shivering. ‘-got fucking jokes.”

 

Looking back down towards the waters below, a brief memory replays. He recalls his first deviant case - Daniel - falling to his death from a high-rise apartment. He remembers the fear he had when Hank was dangling off the ledge chasing another deviant long ago. He recalls the innocent life fade out of Simon on the rooftop. He remembers the fear and confusion of the one and time he died during the protests only to be brought back by being uploaded into a new prototype; a new body. He feels the same feeling pass through him now as it did all those other times before. He _feels_ hollow. He _feels_ the winter wind whip through his jacket, glide its icy sharp hands against his spine, and curve around him cooling him right through his chest. Empty. Connor flinches away from the ledge when Hank coughs.

 

“Okay, there kid?” Concern wrecks Hank’s features. Connor does not like this look on him. Worry has never suited someone as sure and confident as him. He looks back down the hole and focuses on the dark water rushing and roaring beneath him. He takes a deep breath and forces his gaze on something steady, solid. He watches silently as Hank pulls him away when he doesn’t answer, seemingly knowing without saying. “Let’s join the others, ‘kay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

They step away from the ledge and walk back towards the paramedics and several patrol cars. Hank runs his hands over his arms. “Fuck this damn weather.”

 

Connor runs a diagnostic on himself. Although the cold isn’t great enough to slow down his internal components, he still finds it unpleasant. They get closer to the paramedics and see a young man sitting in the back of an ambulance wrapped in thermal blankets with his hands covering his face, head between his knees. He’s answering officers’ questions.

 

“Perhaps we should return tomorrow when the weather is predicted to be warmer.”

 

“Nah, the cold will sober me up. Besides, it’s my day off tomorrow.” Getting closer, they notice the young man is dressed in jogging gear and is completely drenched in water. Parts of his clothing exposed from the thermal blankets are freezing up and chipping off icicles.

 

“Today.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s past midnight. Your day off is today.”

 

“Day doesn’t start until the sun rises, kid.” Connor’s about to reply but is cut off when an officer approaches them, leading them off to the side of a nearby patrol car.

 

“Lieutenant Hank, Detective Murphy.” Connor’s scans indicate it’s Patrol Officer George Howards. Records show he recently graduated from the academy three months ago and was assigned highway patrol tasks. "Glad you made it. Considering half the precinct was at the party I’m surprised you didn’t wait ‘till tomorrow to check this out.”

 

A grumble escapes Hank. “Well, we’re here now. Tell us what you got.”

 

“Yes, sir. I was the first to arrive at the scene. It appears an automatic car model SV7900 was driven off the road-”

 

Connor stops paying attention to the officer having already gathered this much. He looks back to the man in the back of the ambulance and scans him. _Identification inconclusive. Hands and blankets obscure complete identity reference. Wet clothes indicate he jumped into the river to rescue the passengers inside. Why? Thermal scans inconclusive. Severe temperature differences detected between clothing, weather, and body temp. Hypothermia possible although not definite._ Connor can hear the young man arguing with the officers but can’t make out much of what’s being said with the sounds of diverted traffic blaring horns in the background, Hank and Officer Howards talking besides him, and the wind blocking up his audio sensors.

 

“-the driver died shortly after the crash. The passenger was brought to Detroit Teaching Medical Hospital in critical condition. The Chief called to say that they’re a high priority and their identities will be hidden from the media until he can arrange a press statement on them.”

 

“Woah there rookie, a press release? Why did you call us in? We deal with Android related cases.”

 

The young man from the ambulance is arguing with the officers surrounding him. He throws his hands down as he stands to scold the officer before him. Unmistakably Connor’s scans pick up blue blood covering his palms, forehead, and cheek. His face is immediately recognizable. _Identity confirmed. Model JV1900 Serial Number 24990-88733. Teaching Android Series 6. Android Database registered name as “Thomas Smith”._ Thomas clutches his thermal blanket tighter and points a finger at the startled officer he’s yelling at. _Instability 58%._ He sits back down and turns fully to Connor. A part of his facial skin is damaged on the left side, exposing the hardware underneath. He can see Thomas is flushed. In anger or a response to the cold, he’s not sure.

 

His LED flickers from yellow to blue as Thomas recognizes him.

 

“Connor” Officer Howards and Hank turn around as the sound of Thomas cuts clear through the noise. Connor pushes past the two and approaches the android. He stands to meet him when one of the officers holds him back. Thomas ignores this. “Detective! Where’s Ricky? Where’s my husband?”

 

_Frantic. Instability 72%_

 

“Woah there, what’s going on?” Hank approaches from Connor’s side with Officer Howards not too far behind. “Who’s Ricky?”

 

Thomas’ eyes flicker between the two detectives. He takes a deep breath to steady his breathing and cooling condensers.

 

“We- we were jogging and then this car came by and he was hit by some glass and- and we heard screaming,” His pulse was steadily increasing. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

Connor places a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. His LED flickers blue as he retrieves information instantaneously. “Medical reports say he’s in stable and functional condition at a Cyberlife medical unit downtown. He is going to recover just fine.”

 

_Instability 54%_

 

“I - I was gonna say that.” Officer Howards pipes up from behind Hank and Connor.

 

“Thank Ra9 you’re here.” Thomas breathes a sigh of relief and pulls Connor into a tight hug, smiling.

 

Hank glances to Connor who looks just as confused as he does.

 

Thomas lets him go just as fast as he pulls him in. He glares at the officer by the ambulance. The one that he was yelling with earlier. “That officer accused Ricky and me of this accident! I called the police as soon as the accident occurred. Tell them I’m telling the truth!”  

 

Thomas holds out his partially frozen hand and turns off the artificial skin to reveal his mechanical arm.

 

Connor looks up to Officer Howards, “Why were your colleagues accusing him of the accident?”

 

“No! Nothing like that!” Officer Howards glares at the officer questioning Thomas. “Henry is still defensive around Androids. He’s an idiot sir.” He glances back to the officers. “Just routine questions sir.”

 

“Hmm. Well,” Hank nods to Connor, “Get on with your magic mind meld shit or whatever.”

 

Both Androids raise a brow. “This is hardly magic Hank.”

 

“Yeah yeah, just find out what he knows.”

 

Connor shakes his head and reveals his android arm to Thomas. “May I?”

 

Thomas tightens the blanket around him with his free arm. He nods. “Yeah.”

 

_Data Transfer Initiating_

 

_Data Sequence Uploading_

 

_Data Transfer Complete_

 

_Memory 12.31.2039 9:57pm Selected_

 

_Thomas is looking at Ricky jog beside him. He’s gazing intensely at his eyes._

 

_‘You realize we have no need to jog right?’_

 

_‘Yeah,’ Ricky reaches over to squeeze Thomas’ hand. ‘I find it exhilarating to do things as humans do. It makes me feel-’_

 

_‘Yes?’_

 

_‘Human.’ Ricky squeezes Thomas’ hand again. ‘I like doing things with you. I like being with you.’_

 

_Connor can feel Thomas’ biocomponents warm up in response to this memory. Thomas’ vision is still focused solely on Ricky. Connor; however, tries to pay attention to the scene around them, unsuccessfully. He can only see what Thomas’ focus is on. As far as Connor can tell, they are quite near the eventual crime scene._

 

_‘I’m also enjoying the view.’ Thomas smirks, gazing up and down his husband’s matching jogging outfit, ‘Beautiful tonight. Every night.’_

 

_Ricky blushes deep and royal. As he turns to reply, a deafening crash screeches just behind Ricky’s head, blocking Connor from seeing the moment of impact. A deep piece of glass embeds itself into Ricky’s chest and several scraps of metal smack against Thomas’ head._

 

_Damage Detected_

 

_The force of the flying debris knocks both of the androids onto the pavement. Connor is unable to see from Thomas’ perspective what type of car ran into the Model SV7900 or who may have been driving said vehicle as Thomas is leaning above Ricky inspecting the damage with shaking hands._

 

_‘Ricky! Richard, honey, are you okay?’ Ricky leans up on his elbows and touches the glass. Thomas gasps as Ricky yanks it out of him._

 

_‘Ricky!’ Thomas’ LED flares red in shock._

 

_Ricky smiles. ‘I’m okay. Nothing major was impacted.’_

 

_‘Are you in pain?’_

 

_Ricky shakes his head. ‘Not much, just a little discomfort.’ He cups his hands on Thomas’ cheek, he flinches, confused. ‘Your skin, it’s damaged, are you-’_

 

_Connor’s vision moves with Thomas’ as he sharply looks up when someone from inside the wrecked SV7900 screams. Finally, Connor thinks, he can see the scene as it was. The Automatic Model SV7900 sustained major damage to the front driver’s side from the impact with the high-speed pole barriers angled fiercely within the passenger’s side of the car. The entirety of the vehicle wobbles with the wind as it dangles over the side of the bridge. Thomas’ vision briefly turns to the side to see the offending vehicle speed away. Connor tries to scan the scene to analyze the runaway car but forgets that Thomas is not advanced enough nor has the technology that Connor possesses to allow such a task. He was simply not built to do such a thing. A teaching Android, Connor recalls. The glimpse of the runaway vehicle is brought back to the wobbling car when a strong gust of wind pushes the vehicle fully off the bridge. The screams of two people inside permeate through the icy air and vanish completely when they’re swallowed by the darkness._

 

_Connor doesn’t need to use Thomas’ memory to feel the fear that coursing through his processors. He glances back down to Ricky equally stunned. He reaches to pull him up and they both run to the ledge, looking down at the car bobbing in the black water, slowly sinking._

 

_Ricky takes off his jogging jacket that’s torn from the glass and hands it to Thomas._

 

_‘Call the police, I’m going to jump in after them.’ Connor can sense that Thomas sent out an announcement to the Detroit police hotline at exactly 10:03p. His LED cycling blue to confirm that the message was received. The exact time that Connor remembers seeing reported to the hotline on the ride over from the night’s events._

 

_‘What?’_

 

_‘I was programmed as a coast guard android. I can bring them out of the water. I can try to save them.’_

 

_Before he can protest Ricky dives after the sinking car. Thomas’ internal drives are having a hard time processing his emotions; slowing down his functions. He sees Ricky swim beneath the waves and out of sight. He’s under for a few minutes. The longer he’s underneath the slower Thomas’ memory plays the images of the churning waters below rumbling, sweeping, swirling as they would. As though nothing has ever occurred._

 

_He’s panicking._

 

_Instability 88%_

 

_Moments later Ricky’s head pops out with an unconscious man in his arms. The man is blue and unmoving._

 

_Instability 66%_

 

_‘Tommy! He’s not breathing! I need to get him to shore! You have to get the woman!’ Thomas’ processors hitch. He turns to the side and sees the distant lights of the patrol cars and ambulances race down the bridge. Even from this height, Ricky can see his indecision. His LED flaring yellow. ‘There’s no time Tommy! She’s gonna die! Help her!’_

 

_Instability 89%_

 

_It only takes a moment but for Connor, he can feel the drop of pressure and force of wind that surrounds Thomas’ fall into the river. Unlike Ricky, Thomas jumps feet first into the icy waters. Both Connor and Thomas can feel the shock in their processors as the cool water momentarily stuns them. Looking far beneath the waves he can see the headlights of the vehicle flicker in the darkness. Thomas swims towards the vehicle steadily sinking. As he gets closer to the suspended rear he can see one of the woman’s hands flat against the rear window, trying to breathe in the small air pocket inside._

 

_He swims towards the driver’s side that’s been pulled open enough to allow the man to have pulled through. It's completely bent out of its original design. The headlights’ flickers allow for Thomas to see the legs of the woman slowly bobbing in the water. Deep gashes mar her right side. Bits of flesh dangle from exposed bone in a cloud of reddish water. Her once blue dress completely shredded in some places; in others, its holding said flesh and bone in place. Thomas gently pushes her to the side and sees her neck craning up into the shrinking air pocket. He places a hand to her side and enters the air pocket._

 

_She’s barely conscious. Lips blue and eyes heavily lidded. Her pupils dilate and breaths turn shallow and frantic when she realizes she’s not alone._

 

_‘No, no.’ she gasps weakly._

 

_‘There’s not much time.’ Thomas’ voice is clear in the silent depths mute around them. His dim blue LED providing the only source of light. ‘I have to pull you under to free you. You must remain calm as-’_

 

_‘No! No.’ She scratches against the ceiling with her one good hand, struggling to stay afloat. The other is bent and twisted in painful angles. Natural to the design and functions of a human hand._

 

_‘Miss there’s no other opt-’_

 

_The car shifts in the river’s stream and the small pocket of air is swallowed up by the current. Her hands frantically and weakly beat against the dense glass of the car. As gently as Thomas can, he swims back down and pulls her legs first out of the vehicle. She screams under the water, plumes of bubbles escaping her lips as he drags her out of the vehicle. He places an arm around her waist and swims up to the surface. She tries to protest, scratching at his exposed skin and pushing against his head and chest. Not too long after her body goes limp. Lights from above shine deep into the water and quickly remain on them as they surface moments later._

 

_Connor fast forwards through Thomas’ memory to see them board a waiting rescue boat that’s brought to shore where an awaiting ambulance wails its lights. Ricky is nowhere to be seen and a black tarp covers the body of the man that Ricky brought up lying on the beach. Thomas is ushered by Officer Howards back up to the bridge to ask questions about the scene._

 

_Data Transfer Ending_

 

_Data Sequence Terminated_

 

_Data Transfer Complete_

 

For what felt like hours only a few seconds have passed as Connor’s internal clock reads. They separate their clasp on each other and turn on their respective skins. He felt everything Thomas felt. His fear. His love. His worry. The panic of losing someone felt all too real. He takes a moment to look at Hank, his best friend; present, warm, solid. The wind whipping through the air and around his skin somehow feels even colder despite his sensors remaining unchanged. He decides that he hates that feeling of emptiness. Of loss. Of uncertainty.

 

Connor looks Thomas right in the eye and nods. “Thank you.”

 

Thomas sincerely nods back and wraps his blanket around him; more for security than temperature. Connor’s LED flashes blue and he smiles back at him. “My reports have indicated that the unidentified woman is stable due to your heroic efforts. You may depart to the Cyberlife clinic if you wish.”

 

Thomas hugs him once more before running off.

 

“Hey wait- fuck.” Hank protests but stops when he notices the look on Connor’s face. Connor can’t tell what Hank’s thinking neither can he tell what he sees but Hank simply sighs. “Come on kid, let’s go check on the victim.”

 

Connor extends a hand out to the young Officer Howards. “Thank you for your diligence and help Officer.”

 

Howards sheepishly shakes his hand. His pulse erratic, Connor notes. “Th-thank you Detective; Lieutenant.”

 

Hank nods and leads the way as they make their way back into the relative warmth of the beat-up car he drove. Inside the worn leather and dog hair covered seats, Connor takes a sigh of relief. Hank enters second and happily groans in the comfort of the seat. He takes a moment to study the android who seems _pale_ despite looking exactly as pristine as he always does. He starts up the car, turns up the heat, and drives towards the hospital.

 

Connor stares out of the window and replays the data he’s gathered. Some pieces of evidence do not align. Whenever he pulls forth images of the woman through his identification systems he continually draws a blank. There appears to be no record of this woman in his database, yet, the lingering impression that he recognizes her sticks heavily to him. Glue to molasses. He was designed to solve problems, to finish missions. Even after Markus helped awake him his personality is so ingrained to see things to an end. Loose ends, as Hank would say, piss him off.

 

“Good there kid?”

 

Connor, lost in his thoughts, blinks back. “I think so.”

 

“Okay, shoot. What did you see in that mind meld? Not gonna lie buddy, looked painful. Hell, looks like you could a drink.”

 

Connor glances at him, brows raised. “Data transfer is not magic.”

 

Hank pulls a small flask from within his jacket pocket and takes a quick swig of its contents. “Yeah and I’m fucking Dorothy in this bullshit Oz we live in. That’s magic.”

 

Connor squints, confused. “Once again your metaphors are problematic.” After a pause. “What are you drinking?”

 

“A special blend of ‘none-of-your-business’ and ‘shut up’ thanks to our lovely Chief and Mayor.” Hank turns down another road and rolls his eyes at Connor’s concerned glare. He pats his jacket pocket. “You’re welcome to some if you’d like.”

 

“Your attempt to soothe me by distraction of alcohol is not partially useful for an android. I am not affected by its toxins. Also, your actions are illegal _Lieutenant_.” Connor stresses, his LED flaring yellow. Hank huffs, rolling his eyes.  

 

“Ah, shit kid, I’m just trying uh know, open up.” After a pregnant pause, he adds, “Socialize. Son, you’re making this hard.”

 

Connor blinks back, his features returning to normal. “Oh. I see.”

 

“Jesus kid,” Hank laughs. “Just, tell me what’s on your mind. You seem, I dunno, conflicted? What evidence have you gathered from mind meld?”

 

Connor nods. “You are correct Hank. The ‘mind meld’ was very helpful yet-”

 

“Yet?”

 

“Conflicting. Emotionally charged. Thomas’ memories proved only partially useful in identifying the driver of the hit and run. Thomas, he-” Connor taps his fingers against the car door. His favorite coin in his work jacket. “-he had several intense emotional reactions happen in a very short time frame leading to high-stress instability. Several key opportunities to solve these questions in the moment were lost due to these outbursts. I’ve sent a copy of the memory to our files to review at the precinct.” Connor sighs. “It’s all so distracting.”

 

Hank pulls into the hospital parking lot and turns into a spot. Once settled, he takes a moment to see just how fatigued, how _human_ he looks. Hank pats Connor’s shoulder. “That’s what being alive is all about, son. Emotions are a hell of thing aren’t they?”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

Hank turns off the car and takes another swig of his flask. “Just because you’re ‘awake’ doesn’t mean may you understand all of these fucking things. You once said you can ‘adapt to human unpredictability’.”

 

“That is correct.”

 

“Well, kid, let me handle the people business until you’re comfortable with all of this. Things are changing. Having your foot in your mouth would make this investigation-”

 

“Awkward?”

 

“Yeah. You keep doing your magic and I’ll handle the crazy.”

 

Hank pockets the flask and exits the car, heading to the hospital entrance. Connor follows closely behind. He turns to him smiling once they pass through the entrance. “Thank you, Hank. That is very considerate and insightful of you. I would appreciate it.”

 

“Thanks, kid that’s-” Hank rolls his eyes at the sincere look in Connor’s eyes. “Ah shut it tin-can. I’m too old for your mushy shit.”

 

Connor smirks to himself and they easily spot a nurse heading the receptions desk in the ER. Connor squares his shoulders and approaches her sternly.

 

“Good Morning Ma’am. We are Officers of the Detroit Police Office. There is a young woman that recently arrived in critical condition and we wish to collect any possible evidence and information from her. May you direct us to her location?”

 

The nurse glances from him to Hank with a curious look on her face. She’s staring at their tuxes. “He’s with you?”

 

Hank sighs and steps in front of Connor and flashes his badge. He leans against the counter. “Miss, we’re conducting an investigation. Where’s this lady?”

 

“I think the person you’re looking for is recovering on the twenty-fourth floor from emergency and experimental surgery. A real mess. I hope she pulls through.”

 

“Thanks,” Hank pushes himself off and heads to the elevator. Connor’s lips are in a thin line as he looks to Hank pushing the elevator button. “What?”

 

Connor crosses his arms behind himself. “I don’t see why she answered you and not me. My approach was far more direct than yours.”

 

Hank laughs. “Kid, sometimes you-” he chuckles again. “Nevermind.”

 

The elevator opens up and they step inside. They stand together side by side in comfortable silence. Connor decides to drop the issue, for now, making a note to ask Hank about the nurse later. He closes his eyes to upload his report to their computer at the precinct; his LED flashes blue.

 

“--did you hear me?” Hank is looking intently at him.

 

“Hmm? Sorry, I was transferring our reports and observations from the scene. Did you say something?”

 

“Yeah, kid. I said ‘Happy New Years’.”

 

“Oh,” Connor blinks, then smiles back. “Happy New Years Hank.”

 

Hank shakes his head and takes another sip from his flask. He holds out. “Cheers to a good year.”

 

Connor looks around the empty elevator cabin. “I have nothing to cheer with.”

 

“Well I’ll take one on your behalf, salud.” he lifts the flask in the air for a moment before taking another swig of its contents.

 

“I was not aware you knew Spanish.”

 

Hank opens his mouth to reply something snarky but they’re stunned by the image before them. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

 

They step off of the elevator to see two Chloe’s holding back Kamski and a Chloe holding back another, older woman apart. Between them is yet another Chloe trying to keep the peace as the two of them scream at each other. Connor pauses and takes a scan of the room.

 

 _Kamski is being held by two of his Chloe’s with his fingers and hands accusingly pointing to the older woman across him. The woman in question is posed similarly with an accusatory finger pointed at him. Connor cannot identify her. She shares similar features with both the woman of Thomas’ memories and of Kamski here now. Just like the victim, Connor’s scans draws another messy blank with this older woman too._ For the second time tonight he feels irritated that there’s an obvious piece of the puzzle missing that he cannot stitch together. It’s fucking annoying _. Interestingly, both Elijah and the Chloe that stands between them are dressed in scrubs. Both are similarly covered in a mix of blue and red blood. Emotional detectors sense that the Chloe between them is worried._

 

_Instability 67%_

 

“She begged you not do it and you still took her rights away from her!”

 

“She begged me to save her life you fucking bitch!”

 

“She begged you not to turn her into a monster!”

 

“I did what I had to!”

 

“You don’t have the right to do that!” Screams Sarah Kamski.

 

“This is my teaching hospital! My technology, my resources! I saved her life!” Elijah yells against the stronghold the Chloes had on him.

 

“I’m her emergency contact, I’m her mother! This was never your decision to make you ass7!” She struggles against the grip that a Chloe has on her shoulders. “Tell your fucking robots to get off of me!”

 

Hank holds his arms out and yells, “Hold it right there!”

 

Everyone silences. Hank points to the Chloe holding Sarah, “You, keep her in the lobby until my officers can question you. And you two,” he points to the two Chloes holding back Elijah, “keep him in that break room until I can speak with him, got it?”  

 

Both of the Kamski’s glare at Hank. They huff but follow the Chloes that pull them away under Hank’s orders. Hank turns to Connor whose blue LED circles.

 

“I have notified nearby officers for the need of some assistance.”

 

Hank nods, “Good. Who’s the fucking doctor in charge around here anyhow?” He asks aloud.

 

The Chloe in scrubs coughs and raises a hand. “That would be me, sir.”

 

Connor and Hank share an apprehensive glance to one another. Connor steps before her. “What reason are you here? What is your purpose?”

 

Dr. Chloe shrinks a little under his tone. “Ever since the new Android laws and rights I’ve discussed my interests with medicine with Eli-” Connor notes the familiar tone she speaks about Kamski, unlike the other Chloes. “- and he agrees that my talents of Android repair could translate well into human repair and discovery. I wanted to be helpful.”

 

“Are the other Chloes like you?” Hank crosses his arms in front of himself.

 

“No. They are enjoying their time with Elijah helping repurpose Cyberlife and the creation of Android Clinics. I find humans fascinating, so I came here.”

 

“And the hospital?”

 

Dr. Chloe looks up to Connor and quickly looks down to the floor. _She’s nervous_. “Eli owns it. In addition to being the most advanced hospital in the western hemisphere, he also has an entire floor dedicated to creating advanced prosthetics and bio equipment for the severely injured or impaired. Specialized tools to help the blind see again. Paraplegics able to walk-”

 

“Hon, I’m fucking tired. This night is draining me enough as it is. Where’s the hell’s-?”

 

“Room 568, sir.”

 

Hank pats her shoulder, forcefully smiling. “Thanks.”

 

They part down the hallway scanning the doors they pass. _Room 543, Room 545, Room 5-_

 

Connor stops in counting and stares at Hank curiously glancing in each of the rooms filled with computers and machinery far more complex than an average hospital typically stocks. In truth, this place reminds him of the Cyberlife headquarters. Everything is pristine. White walls lined with technological hardware. Perfectly designed to allow Androids to assess and comfort the patients within these rooms. Inside several rooms they notice young doctors monitoring patients’ vitals and writing reports. A teaching hospital this is. Inside a few of the rooms, some of the young doctors easily call forth holograms and various medical diagnostics shown above the patients in real time. In essence, a simplified version of Connor’s own scans’ abilities. It would seem that Kamski left the best technology embedded within his ever changing, ever updating prototype.

 

“This is us, kid.”

 

To the side of the entrance, ‘568’ reads in gold numerals. Inside, the woman from Thomas’ memories sleeps restlessly. She scowls and lightly moans in her rest. Yet, unlike these visions, her appearance seems completely healthy. No bruise, no cut, no flaw mars her flesh. Connor’s LED circles in rapid yellows. A momentary lapse of fear and panic pulses through him remembering Thomas’ fear for her wellbeing. He too seems concerned yet does not know why.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

Hank cautiously watches Connor beeline to her right side, lightly grasping her shoulder. He immediately recoils and steps away from the bed. He cautiously glances up at Hank, hoping for an answer.

 

Hank snatches the diagnostic clipboard off of her bed. “Don’t disturb her.” Hank notices Connor scrutinizing her, his LED circling in lazy yellows trying to process the discrepancy. “What’s the matter with you, kid?”

 

“That’s not- that’s not real.”

 

Hank glances up at him and then proceeds to read the info off the clipboard. “Eve Genesis Kamski. Kamski? No fucking way.” Connor’s LED flares from yellow to red momentarily. The name once again seems familiar; so new yet not. “Well, anyway. Age 28. Emergency Contact: Sarah Kamski - Mother. Prognosis: Heavy Damage to external and internal components. Treatment: replace- REPLACEMENT? Who the fuck wrote this?”

 

“I’m the fuck who wrote this.” Kamski stands crossed armed leaning on the doorway with Dr. Chloe beside her. He looks fatigued but otherwise pleased. “Please be quiet. She’s trying to recover after all.”

 

“Of course you wrote this you fucking wannabe android.”

 

“You have a sister?” Connor interrupts what would’ve been another argument between them. “I was not aware of this.” Connor looks between them and can definitely see - without the scans -  the sibling similarities.

 

‘Of course not.” Kamski and Dr. Chloe stand on the opposite Connor. “I can block certain people from your scanners. I have a private life too.”

 

“This is an investigation-”

 

“If I’m not mistaken you’re only responsible for Android related cases. My sister is not an android.” Kamski pockets his blue and red blood hands. Dr. Chloe nervously fidgets with her own tablet, clutching it close to her chest. Minute, but immediately noticeable to Connor. Kamski nervously looks away under Connor’s glare. “In this hospital, she remains under my care and I ask that you two leave so my sister can rest.”

 

Connor glances at Hank and quickly does a scan of Eve. His processing hitches with the revelation with erratic swirls of yellow and red LED flashes. He calms himself and his LED with a deep breath.

 

With wide eyes and curious eyes, and a gentle touch, the others watch him hold her hand. “This should not be possible,” he whispers, curiously turning over her hand, inspecting it.

 

“And you should mind your own damn business.” Hank resumes, his anger flaring back to life. “This is our case now whether or not it’s Android-related or no-”

 

“How long were you gonna wait to tell us that you installed illegal technology on your own sister?” Connor glances to Hank then to Kamski. He has the decency to look away and down at the restless woman lying before him.

 

“What in the sam hell is he talking about Kamski?”

 

Kamski puts his palms out before him, Dr. Chloe moves to stand behind him. “We did what was needed. I did what was necessary.”

 

Hank pauses for a moment to assess the scene, glancing back and forth from the specs of multicolored blood and perfectly smooth skin that decorates Eve’s skin. Like a jolt of electricity, he jumps back. “No, you didn’t-”

 

Kamski takes a step forward and points his finger at Hank’s chest. “You don’t get to judge me. You weren’t there when she was brought in. You didn’t see the way she looked. How could you-”

 

Hank slaps his hand off of him and grabs him by the collar, bringing him close. “Don’t you fucking touch me, boy. It’ll be the last thing you fucking do.”

 

“It still does not give you the right to manipulate the wishes of an individuals’ rights and take the law into your own hands and recreate it.” Connor’s grip on Eve’s hand tightened. “You are no god.”

 

“Am I not a god of some?” Kamski pushes Hank’s grip aside and directs his hand straight towards him instead. “Your whole existence, your life, memories, dreams. You're a creation of my design! I brought forth the seeds of life and souls for my creations. A free will to thousands! To me, you are my child. I created you!”

 

“You do not define me.” Connor’s words stopped everyone. “My memories are my own, my life is my own, and dreams are my own. You may have provided the tools for me to live but you do not own _me for I am alive_.” He looks to Hank’s satisfied smirk and stares down Kamski. He sneers, lowly. “God or not this individual does not require you to be making life-altering decisions without her consent since you are legally not allowed to be made an authority of her life when she cannot.”

 

Hank crosses his arms and chuckles when Kamski glares at him. “Yeah, what he said.”

 

“Especially,” Connor continues, “when it involves currently illegal means to do-” He stops and gasps when he feels Eve’s hand flex against his. Looking down, he can see her eyes weakly opening.

 

“What’s illegal?” A dry whisper croaks.

 

Bleary eyes circle around her darken vision trying to locate the voice she’s been listening in on. Connor instinctively leans in as his programming on social protocol and first aid techniques have taught him. He angles part of his head to better hear her, occasionally searching her eyes for clues that she recognizes him or signs of distress. Eventually, her eyes fall on him and focus on his voice.

 

She takes a shallow breath. “You.”

 

Not much of a question, Connor thinks, more of a statement. “Hello there,” Connor ignores this, “I am Detective Murphy. Lieutenant Anderson and I have been assigned to your case and we have a few questions we wish to as-”

 

“Were you sent to me?” Her voice barely a whisper.

 

“Excuse me?” Connor leans in closer. He steals a look to Hank who only shrugs in response.

 

“An angel.”

 

“Ah, fucking christ she’s losing it.” Hank palms his forehead and sighs.

 

“Not necessarily Hank. She may be experiencing trauma-related confusion.”

 

Eve’s eyes lazy drag across the room. Her sleepy smile freezes when she lands on Elijah. Connor feels rather than hears her heartbeat thunder across her flesh. Hank places a hand on Connor’s should and gently pulls him away to stand beside him when her monitors start picking up.  

 

“YOU” She grips her blankets and moves as far away from him as the bed allows, practically hugging the headboard. Her voice returns tenfold. “WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED? YOU LEFT US.”

 

Kamski silently stares at her. His mouth opening to say something; then closes, choosing not to.

 

_Emotion detected: Shame. Guilt. Fear._

 

Eve blinks back the last bits of sleep from her and takes another look at Connor. Her cold glare lands on him. “Who are you?” She notices the glint coming off of Hank’s badge. “Why are you here?”

 

The monitors behind her are practically screaming their distresses.

 

“As her primary physician, I advise everyone to leave. Please let Eve destress in peace and privacy.” Dr. Chloe stands beside the door. “Please leave.”

 

Eve glares at Kamski then back to Dr. Chloe.

 

“Doctor, please, what's happening? Where’s Nate?”

 

“Who?”

 

“My fiance, he was with me when-”  Eve looks around the room and then again to herself. Realization drains whatever remaining color from her face. He breathing picks up.

 

“Ma’am, your breathing is erratic. You are experiencing a severe panic attack. You need to take a deep, slow breath.” Connor calmly leans in to whisper. “What do you remember of the accident?”

 

“Fucking hell Connor this can wait, let’s come back later,” Hank whispers under his breath. Connor nods and starts to step back.

 

“Officers, please, what-” She grabs Connor’s arm and snaps her attention her hand; going completely silent. She turns her hand along with Connor’s arm underneath her grasp. Slowly her eyes travel up from her hand, up her arm, across her chest, and down her legs underneath the sheets. Her free hand throws the blanket off of her to stare at her exposed and perfect skin. Slowly the grip on Connor’s arm loosens. She stares at both of her hands sitting in her lap. Inspecting them. Tears fill her eyes. Her breath hitches and becomes forced. She snaps at Elijah.

 

“What did you do?”

 

Elijah doesn’t look at her. He places his hands on the railing of her bed and opts to stare down at the tiled floor instead. His hands tighten but he does not move. “I couldn’t let you die.”

 

“Elijah, I wanna see.” He looks up and sees her eyes reddening under the strain she keeping from crying.

 

“Eevee, I don’t think that’s-”

 

“Don’t you ever call me that again! You lost that right years ago!” She screams through her tears freely falling. “I wanna see it! Show me!”

 

Dr. Chloe pushes Elijah away from the bed and exposes her hand free from the illusion of skin. Eve’s gaze is transfixed on the nonorganic limb. “Please,” Dr. Chloe begins, “Do not blame him. Ultimately this was my call and you deserve to know that.”

 

Her mechanical hand rests upon Eve’s shoulder and she flinches when she's touched, letting a small whimper escape. Slowly a whiteness spreads from her right side while her skin on her left reveals itself truthfully. The contrast of black and blue bruises alongside Android grade prosthetics seemed foreign and alien to everyone in the room. Never before has a human been fitted with Android parts as human prosthetics were typically functional and decidedly “different” rather than “living”. Never once this advanced. This extensive. This integrated. Human physiology and Android components were both deemed too delicate, complicated, and dangerous for one another to be compatible. Her entire right leg and arm, the left side of her neck, and breastbone/heart areas are very much Android and are very different than her marred human parts. Laying overtop her heart, a circular LED cycles wildly between different shades of red. She looks back down to both of her hands, each unique from the other.

 

“I understand that this is a difficult time for you,” Connor breaks her from her dumbfounded wonder. She doesn’t notice that he once again gently grasps her android hand as he turns fully to her. “If you would be so kind as to answer a few questions for us and allow us to collect evidence-”

 

She looks up at him with glassy eyes and only then notices the spinning blue LED and his deep brown eyes staring intensely at her. All at once her machines flare to dangerous levels, her hand recoils protectively around her, and she screams.


	2. Second Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve wakes up and is disorientated from the accident wherein we see some of her perspective on everything. It's poem-like and I don't know how else to convey this experience without sounding cliche, overused, or weak; thus the poem-esque nature remains. Additionally, we get to see Connor and Hank working at the lab when they meet the precinct's newest member: Eve. There's a bit of drama going on here and a bit of some dark introspection on Connor's part so please be wary of own's own intrusive thoughts when reading this. All will end happily so hopefully you'll enjoy! Also some more swearing but that's to be expected from our lovely babes. The mystery that grips this city continues to grow! Notes at the beginning and the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait. I was hoping to do this weekly on Saturdays but I've been working overtime this past couple of weeks alongside getting incredibly sick and taking a mental health day due to all the work I've been doing. Positive Mental Attitude everyone! I want to thank everyone for continuing this journey with me. I hope you all follow the amazing twitch channel that Bryan and Amelia hosts. I freaking love them. Back to the story: Eve is feisty and a bit moody but I hope I've translated her emotional stress and confusion well into the text. Just to clarify once again, they're two people dealing with their own turmoils and issues with my meme king Hank balancing everyone out. No one can convince me that Hank - who's seen the rise of meme culture - isn't versed in pop culture references.

Inhale

 

1

 

2

 

3

 

Hold

 

1

 

2

 

Exhale

 

1

 

2

 

3

 

Repeat

 

A heaviness waits on her, biding its time, holding a watch with no hands. A countdown. In a room with no walls, no lights, no rush. It leans heavily against the door; rattle shaking. It watches.

 

Inhale

 

Darkness approaches.

Intimately.

Gently.

Quietly.

With warm hands and whispers.

A watchful lover brushing her hair in gentle strokes,

Parting hair

Calmly,

Delicately avoiding tangles pulling on her scalp. Pushing hands where the bristles cannot

Running sharp nails and rough knuckles

Over smooth curves and angled moans. Gasping

Grasping the base of her skull.

Closer

 

Hold

 

And all too soon its

Wearing a wool coat in the middle of a summer haze

Breathing in the heat

Of the earth the sun

Of blacktop tar burning feet

The breath of the person crowded on a bus

Sweat and skin rubbing and evaporating

Exhausting

The taste

Sweet and sticky

Molasses and glue

Swallowing dry and licking the salt

Off upper lips

Darkness waits

It clings

And holds

And tightens

 

Exhale

 

Wound and spring coils

Release her. Emptying a basin of blood spilled onto

An eternal drop breaking the clouds

Free Falling

Parting

Smaller

Faster

Impossible to catch

Breathlessly

Plunging chest first into waters deeper than air can hold

Lungs empty and drag deeper still where light cannot touch

Her wandering hands pulling the heaviness

Into her cold chest

Protecting the timekeeper

From shivering.

She waits.

And waits.

For the door to open

To once again

 

Inhale

 

In this darkness, Eve hears voices. Not voices or words she recognizes, but nonetheless the words of someone close. There are snippets of conversations she understands as phrases misplaced in context and there are phantom touches of something that was never there but she can recognize as her own. She feels sheets on her toes gently securing her to a bed and a pillow squarely beneath her lifting her up. She feels sweat and heat collect and pool on her skin relieved only by an immense coolness on her side steadily getting warmer, familiar. From this darkness, she can do nothing but focus on her breathing.

 

In and out. In and out.

 

She does not remember when the darkness fades only to be replaced by muffled words once again. These are different. Erratic. Spontaneous. Charged and plenty. In a whisper she hears but cannot understand the words spoken; so she listens. The phrases make no sense but the more she focuses, the smaller the darkness forms. Onto one word and gone the next she finds one that clicks. Something she understands. Something that resonates with her. Something familiar.

 

“What’s illegal?” Her throat hurts but she can't remember why. Eve barely recognizes the sounds coming out of her. She realizes her throat is dry and her breath is coarse but the pain of talking helps guide her steadily away from the fuzziness inside her mind. Looking around, it’s blinding. She focuses on the sounds around her but can only distinguish a few beeps somewhere behind her. Suddenly, she catches someone standing before her surrounded by the bright lights of the room. She squints.

 

‘Am I dying? Who is this-’ She wonders, looking up and down the blurry guy before her, ‘- a fucking dude in a tux? - The hell?’

 

‘Who are-’

 

“You.” She manages to say. This douchebag just turns his head to the side. His brows raise and he starts to speak again but Eve doesn't notice amidst her inner monologue.

 

‘-Listen, buddy, you're real damn dense. Is there something going on?-’

 

“-Were you sent to me?” she barely whispers.

 

Once again this guy doesn't understand her. She doesn't get it! He looks behind for a second then confusingly stares her down with his stupidly big puppy dog eyes. This fucker.

 

‘Clearly, you're not-’

 

“-an angel-”

 

‘-so would you mind telling me why you're up in my personal space?’ Once again Capitan Boundaries doesn't move.

 

A shout from behind him draws her hazy eyes over to an older, bearded man palming his forehead. He's also dressed in a tux - which is weird - and maybe smells of alcohol. It's hard to tell when a familiar cologne lazily crowds the air. Feet scuffle around her and someone's touch on her hand warms her. As though a bunch of gears was ticking into place, she realizes that there's more people in the room than she initially noticed.

 

She rolls her head to scope the room. White walls and white lights. It’s strangely pleasant here. She’s comfortably tucked into a soft bed. Not too hot; not too cold. She’s nice and warm here. She sees a young woman with a clipboard staring her down.

 

‘Must be an artist,’ Eve smiles at her unusually splotched clothing. Jarring reds and blues. ‘How strange fashion is.’

 

She watches as the outlines of a shadow descends upon the border of her sanctuary. Dark and lengthy. Broad and looming. She looks up. His eyes are hard to forget. She takes a deep breath.

 

She remembers.

 

She knows that shape, that scent, that presence.

 

Elijah.

 

“YOU!” Eve tries to back up as far as she can from him. She’s tried so hard to move past this moment in her life; avoiding it. The monitors surrounding her pick up her frantic heartbeat and erratic breathing. She wants to confront him on her own terms; not like this. Not now. “WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED? YOU LEFT US.”

 

She stares into her brother’s dark eyes, begging for an answer. Elijah silently stares at her. His mouth opens to say something; anything to explain over a decade without a word, without acknowledgment. His lips seal shut and he looks away.

 

Eve takes another glance around her and takes into account the situation she’s in. She’s in a hospital. Okay. She’s surrounded by some douchebag, an old man, a doctor, and a ghost. Eve stares down Captain Boundaries again who’s curiously looking at her. ‘What the hell’s his problem?’

 

“Who are you?” She notices the glint coming off of the older gentleman. It’s a police badge. Police don’t just make visits to a hospital. Something’s wrong. Monitors and screens decorating the walls in this room flare with her impatience. She protectively clutches the blankets before her. She needs to see Nate. He would know what’s going on. “Why are you here?”

 

It’s not until several of the machines beside her start to go haywire that the doctor steps up from behind her brother to the doorway.

 

“As her primary physician, I advise everyone to leave. Please let Eve destress in peace and privacy.” The doctor is unwaveringly calm as she addresses the men. “Please leave.”  

 

Eve glares at Elijah then back to the doctor.

 

“Doctor, please, what’s happening? Where’s Nate?”

 

“Who?”

 

She huffs. “My fiance, he was with me when-” Eve looks around the room and then again to herself, protectively wrapped in a blanket wearing a hospital gown. ‘-when he was drowning.’

 

She remembers them attending the Mayor’s New Year’s Party earlier that night. Nate worked for the Mayor as an assistant attorney while Eve was having a blast being introduced to her new coworkers in the forensics department at the party. She remembers wearing the dress that Nate bought her for Christmas and wore the diamond-encrusted ring that he proposed with a year ago as a necklace. She wanted to meet the infamous detectives she heard all about from her old job; before she transferred as Chief Medical Examiner. She had just met a very handsome Gavin dressed to the nines when they had to leave early. Nate and some members from the office fought over android politics and several of the off-duty cops nearby had to pull them apart. People still argued over the Androids’ place in this new world and how they fit in as well. Despite her differences with Elijah, she knew that his inventions, his company was brilliant and revolutionary. In turn, the newly freed people would reflect the best of Elijah’s ideas and skill. After all, he cared more about his company and his androids than anyone. Even his family.

 

_Nate was driving when they were struck by something._ Eve remembers hitting her head against the door and the screeches of metal on metal piercing through the winter air. She remembers an intense heat spreading across her right side while Nate was clutching his own arm against him. She remembers the pressure in her head being so pulsating that she couldn’t hear what Nate was saying to her. _He’s covered in his own blood. She looks around sees how far over the edge of the bridge they are. The car wobbles fiercely with the wind. She looks down and remembers the waters growing larger and larger. Closer and closer until the frigid currents pull her deeper underneath. She turns to her side and sees Nate resting his head against the steering wheel as the dark waters pour through the holes in the windshield and through the poles pinning her legs to her seat. He’s not breathing._

 

“Ma’am, your breathing is erratic. You are experiencing a severe panic attack. You need to take a deep, slow breath.” The younger officer calmly leans in to whisper. “What do you remember of the accident?”

 

She remembers pulling Nate back and shaking him, griping at his shoulders.

 

_‘Nate! Nate! Wake up!’ She cries, digging her hands into him. ‘Nate! Please!’_

 

_She tries to pry his seatbelt off and only manages to sink the metal shards deeper into her leg. She lets go of him and screams, clutching her torn limb. The rushing waters deactivate the interior lights once they’re far enough underwater and she struggles to find own seatbelt. Her shaking hands only stop when she sees a faint red circle and large hands against Nate’s window. An android._

_‘Help! He’s not breathing! Please!’_

_The android is strong enough to pry open Nate’s door. More water rushes in and completely overtakes her. She watches from her watery prison as the android manages to free Nate’s constraints in one move and yanks her seatbelt free moments later. He grabs her from underneath her arms and pulls her into the back where an air-pocket narrowly awaits. Pulling her up rips open her dress and spreads flesh caught in the wreckage as her legs are momentarily caught on some debris. Blood and skin dangle and permeate the icy waters along with her shallow cries. She weakly bobbles in the backseat as the android pulls Nate out of the car and swims above. She’s too disorientated to do much else other than watch their legs disappear above. The waters continue to rise and she places her hands and head as far above the water as she can._

“Fucking hell Connor,” The soft voice of the older officer brings her back, “this can wait, let’s come back later.” The younger officer nods and starts to step back.

Nate

“Officers, please, what-” She grabs the officer’s arm and realizes that this is not her arm. She can _feel_ that this is her hand. She feels the pressure she’s applying to him and the firm texture of his suit. There’s something off. She turns over her grip on him and stares at the way her muscles coil and flex with her movement. Her touch seems, it _feels,_ delayed but she cannot explain why. Something akin only to energy is felt against his skin but she doesn’t know what it is or what to do with it. She looks up her arm and down her body and grabs a fistful of cloth and yanks the blanket off of her. _What happened to my leg?_ The bone and veins she remembers floating around her are completely gone. Her skin looks good. Too good. She loosens her grip on the officer’s arm and stares at are her hands, inspecting them underneath the harsh lights above her. She registers everything yet it doesn’t _feel_ like it should.

‘Since when did I have a scar on my right hand?’ With both of her hands before her, she notices that the scar on her right hand perfectly mirrors the one on her left hand she got as a child falling off her bike. A freckle that she has on her left pinky now also appears on the right. Looking back down at her legs she sees all the marks she has on her left are symmetrical to her right. Her breath hitches and tears cloud her vision.

It’s unnatural. It’s inhumane. It’s-

“What did you do?” She snaps up to Elijah.

He places his hands on the railing of her bed and stares down to the floor. His grip on the railing tightens as his voice, “I couldn’t let you die.”

“Elijah,” He looks to her when he hears his name, “I wanna see.”

“Eevee, I don’t think that’s-”

“Don’t you ever call me that again! You lost that right years ago!” She screams as hot tears freely trail against her cheeks and splatter against her chest. “I wanna see it! Show me!”

The doctor pushes Elijah way from the bed and shows Eve her palm. Her pale skin fades away from her fingertips and up to her wrist. The change reveals a white plastic copy of a human hand. Exactly the same as the Android that pulled her under the water. Same whiteness. Same hard shell. Same mass reproduced digits whose rigid coldness kept her submerged.

“Please,” The Doctor begins, “Do not blame him. Ultimately this was my call and you deserve to know that.”  


Her mechanical hand rests upon Eve’s shoulder and she flinches when she's touched, letting a small whimper escape. Slowly a whiteness spreads from her right side while her mirrored skin on her left reveals itself truthfully. The contrast of black and blue bruises alongside Android grade prosthetics seemed foreign and alien to everyone in the room. In the recent months following android laws and protections many wannabe hot-shot doctors and crazed individuals have tried - and failed - in crossing the human/android border.

There are limits to what a human body can handle as well as technological limitations to craft a seamless transition between man and machine. It seems as though every week there’s some poor fellow whose body rejected the combination wheeling into a cool metal chamber that rests within Eve’s morgue. If they don’t die from the body’s rejection due to blood infection of the foreign object then it’s due to the intense agony that dangerous mixtures of ‘blue’ and red blood create within the body causing near psychosis levels of pain.

Eve looks to the whiteness. She shivers. She knows what to expect.

Her entire right leg and arm, the left side of her neck, and breastbone/heart areas are very much Android and are very different than her marred human parts. Laying overtop her heart, a circular LED cycles wildly between different shades of red. She looks back down to both of her hands, each now unique from the other.  
  
“I understand that this is a difficult time for you,” The officer breaks Eve from her dumbfounded wonder. She doesn’t notice that he once again gently grasps her android hand as he turns fully to her. “If you would be so kind as to answer a few questions for us and allow us to collect evidence-”  


A faint electrical impulse shoots its way up from the officer’s touch. Eve looks up and can finally see a blue LED circle on the left side of the officer. His dark eyes and his LED are placed similarly to-

_The Android that dragged me under._ Eve feels her sides clench and her legs pull beneath herself. She quickly cradles her hand within herself.

All at once her machines flare to dangerous levels and her hand withdraws protectively around her.

_Eve’s nails snap and break as she claws the back window. Her nose and forehead push and scrap against the wet fabric looking at the ceiling as she tries to stay above the freezing seawater. Faint flickers of light shine along with the beat of her pulse from the headlights below allowing her to see her breath cloud and sink in the narrow air pocket. Her one good hand is slowly turning blue and stiff with the chill. The rest of her pole-shredded side is numb and hot all at once. She knows an end is approaching. Salt and iron coat her throat and tongue as the black acrid water laps against her face and drains into her. She heavily swallows the air feeling it swell and sink deep in her lungs, bobbing her in and out of the icy depths. A deafening scrap of metal on metal forces her to look down into the dark water. Something grabs her side and keeps her in place. Pins her tight and doesn't let go. From nothing, a pair of eyes and a blue light emerges and engulfs her. In a moment, she's plunged underneath and the eyes just stare at her as she descends. Deeper and deeper. She cannot escape. She cannot breathe._

_So she screams,_

And screams,

And the heaviness welcomes her back into its arms. It starts its timeless watch and waits.

And watches

Peaceful once more.

* * *

  


The ride back to Hank’s house is a quiet if bumpy return. Connor sits with his hands flat against his thighs as the old car rattles along grooves in the road. He knows Hank will want to talk if he sees him tapping his fingers against the side door or fiddling his fingers to an unknown tune against his knee. He wants to ask Hank more about what happened but he senses that now might not be an optimal moment to do so. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Hank glances at him, watching Connor’s LED cycle through shades of yellow. He coughs.

“Your uh, light.” Hank points to his temple. “Lot’s to process?”

Connor blinks back. Hank is _concerned._ “Hmm? Yes. I’m-” He looks away. Fresh snow gently kisses the windshield in delicate swirls. “I’m trying to process.”

He feels, _conflicted_. He does a scan of himself and determines that his operations are at peak efficiency and functionality. Diagnostically he is normal. Yet, he cannot shake the feeling that he got from Eve.

_Emotions detected: Fear, panic, alarm_

Connor and Hank had their fair share of looks sent their way before and after the peaceful revolution. Connor was no longer concerned when people would become hostile and angry with him or were disgusted by his presence and authority. He’s given dirty and challenging looks from Gavin at least once a day; especially if they’re in the same room. If he isn’t being looked down upon; other freed androids and supporters alike look to him with respect, hope, happiness, and relief. With Hank, he detects warmth, joy, and pride. Occasionally he detects disgust and annoyance when he does some “weird android shit” like taking live samples at crime scenes or reprogram his security alarms to allow Sumo to freely enter the backyard when he desires. Hank did not appreciate his attempt to program his alarm clocks to wake him at an optimal hour of 5:00 am to be the most productive at the precinct and encourage healthy habits. Hank also failed to see why placing time-locks on his fridge would be beneficial since it prevented him from accessing his alcohol after 9 pm. His health is essential in successfully completing missions. He moved his beers underneath his bed the next night.

In all of this, _fear_ was not something he’s experienced directed towards himself. Intimidation and interrogation techniques have proven useful to induce _stress, anxiety, and irritability_ in others. 

But fear? He’s never seen someone afraid of him.

Connor turns to Hank. He's turning on the windshield wipers to a steady beat as the snow starts to accumulate in steady piles along the sides. Connor opens his mouth ready to ask:

‘Am I a fearful person?’

He looks straight ahead and clenches his hands. He doesn’t want to know the answer. There’s already so much to process in the report.

_Dr. Chloe holds Kamski back when Eve starts screaming only to self-induce a hyper-massive panic attack knocking her unconscious. Hank and Connor rush to Dr. Chloe’s side and usher Kamski out of room arm-in-arm with Dr. Chloe leading them to an empty room nearby. Kamski thrashes and curses against their grips for Connor is far stronger than him and Hank is far taller than him. They shove Kamski inside the room despite his protests and tell him to stay put. They quickly close the door and Dr. Chloe places her android palm against it. Locking it. They walk down the hallway back into the entryway of the elevator that they first arrived at. It's quiet. No other patients or doctors are scurrying by, no computers or phones are chirping away. They just stand there. Connor can only stare at Hank when he looks to him for information or for advice. There is none. Connor’s LED circles yellows and blues trying to understand and locate the source of the emotions presented. His training and programming cannot pinpoint the reason for the reaction that occurred. His actions have done nothing to induce such a state of panic in another. ‘What did my actions do to indicate this emotional reaction as the appropriate response? Is this a uniquely human experience? If so what information can I learn from this? Did I cause unjust pain or injury? Did I do something wrong?’_

_The thoughts frighten him._

_Hank places a hand to his shoulder; giving it a single shake._

_“Well then. That’s, uh, not the way to question a victim, huh son?” Hank’s laughter falls short when Connor doesn’t respond. “Right, so, Doctor. You or your doctor friends or - whatever - knows how to collect evidence or samples from patients, right?”_

_Dr. Chloe nods. “Yes, Lieutenant. My team and I will aid in your investigation by any means necessary.”_

_Hank snaps his fingers into finger-guns. “Right-o there. Have whatever you find sent to my office. We’re gonna find the asshole who did this.” Hank looks around the lobby. “Where the hell’s the other lady?”_

_Dr. Chloe looks down at her tablet. “My security reports tell me Sarah Kamski left the building shortly after your arrival.”_

_Hank sighs. “Agh! Why can’t people do as they’re fucking told anymore?” He glances at Connor whose LED has resumed normality; lightless against his temple. “Will you send a medical report of everything that was done? I’d rather not wake the damn judge for a warrant at this hour.”_

_Dr. Chloe nervously looks between the officers. “I- I don’t know if that is allowed. I’ll need to ask Elijah on-”_

_“Doctor, with all due respect, the laws regarding the use of android-grade prosthetics on humans and taking unlawful steps of consent to a patient’s rights would be more than enough for us to secure a warrant. We ask for your cooperation in this investigation as you've already suggested.” Connor squares up before her, placing his arms crossed behind himself. He glances to Hank then back to the doctor. “It would be easy for me to wait here all day for a warrant. Would you like me to stay?”_

_“No! That would be quite alright of you. My team and I will assist wherever we can. Thank you, officers.” Dr. Chloe nods and excuses herself away._

Not long after they take some notes of the events and send them off to the Chief. They've lined up several meetings and interrogations for the next few days in addition to all the other Android related cases they've got. Several strange incidents regarding Red Ice have been called in; each incident involving dead Androids. Reports have also indicated that Sarah Kamski wishes to press charges on her son, Kamski is being asked by the department to document all procedures regarding the surgery for potential risk and implementation, and lawmakers are reviewing efforts on behalf of Jericho to allow Android communities inside the city. Additionally, Markus has been wishing to speak with Connor

Connor sends out a large file to his own desk, unedited and filled with his own notes for review. Now is not the time to ask personal questions. He needs to focus on the case. Connor takes a deep breath and relaxes his hands, letting his fingers spread and warm against the fabric of his tux. He makes a note to review this moment.

“Ah fuck,” The car jumps when Hank hits the curb pulling into the driveway. Connor reflexively on grips the handle as the car jolts to the side, knocking him into the door. Hank - completely unfazed, yawns, “Sorry ‘bout that kid.”

“It is approximately 3:56 am. You’ve been awake for a considerable amount of time. Your lack of coordination is understandable.” Connor smooths his jacket as Hank pulls to a stop. “Although a warning would have been preferred.”

“And miss free entertainment?” Hank turns off the car and steps out. “Uh, I think not.”

Connor follows behind and enters Hank's house. Sumo stumbles and pushes through Hank's legs and jumps up onto Connor. He bends down and scratches Sumo behind his floofy ears and underneath his scruffy chin, making him drool discontentedly. Connor laughs when Sumo furiously stomps his foot when he finds a spot underneath his chest that's particularly itchy.

Scritch, scritch, scritch

“Hmph,” Hank lightly huffs. He throws his jacket along the back of the couch. “Sumo, you're a damn traitor.”

“Obviously Sumo is a good boy. The best of boys.”

“Only the best. Alright, kid, I’m passing out now.” He yawns and stretches. “Don’t wake me. I’m serious. The Chief can knock down my walls before I’m leaving here.” Hank whistles, “Come on Sumo, night-night.”

Sumo happily bounces off of Connor and runs into Hank’s room, laying in the dog-shaped spot on the bed. Hank turns and waves. “It’s my day off. Don’t annoy me for anything.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already emptied the bottles under your bed,” Connor smirks when Hank slams his door.

“Good fucking night dipshit!” Hank yells.

Connor sighs and tidy’s up the place. When completed, he enters what used to be an unused office now converted into a small room for him. Ever since the events in Detroit, Connor's been lingering around the precinct without much to do when no one's around or otherwise lingering at Hank's. As soon as Hank realized that he had nowhere to go he more or less accepted Connor's presence at his place. A small, unused office has become a spare room for him. A simple bed, desk with chair, closet, and lamp take up the majority of the space. A few photos of his achievements and events linger on the walls. There’s a photo of him and Hank when Connor was hired as a full-time Detective in front of the precinct. Another hangs of North’s selfie with him, Simon, and Josh at the Android Medical Center following Simon’s recovery of his self-inflicted gunshot wound. Connor remembers how relieved he was to learn that Simon was able to come-back from his injuries. Having experienced his death alongside him is something Connor will never forget. A rather large photo of Hank and him hangs adjacent wearing their formal police uniforms standing beside North and Markus on their wedding day back in November. She’s wearing a beautiful gown that an up-and-coming Canadian Android designed while Markus is happily holding her in his arms. A smaller photo on his desk is reserved for just Sumo rolling around in the backyard. Connor looks at these and smiles. These people are his friends and family.

Connor removes the formal attire, placing it appropriately in the closet. Left wearing standard undergarment shorts and shirt, Connor lays in his bed and stares at the ceiling. He closes his eyes.

_Sleep Mode Initiating..._

_Diagnostic Checks Initiating…_

_Charging Efficiency 93%_

_Charging Sequence Initiating…_

_Memory Backup Initiating…_

Here Connor lies as he does every night. Unmoving, undreaming, unchanged. He waits and waits for his body to repair and review anew. Night after night he sleeps alone, hands to his side, in a room just for him. Later, when he wakes up, he’ll remain unaffected from the passing of time, untouched by anything or anyone. For several hours before Hank stumbles out of his room, he’ll stare at the ceiling once again looking exactly as he did when he entered. As he stares, the same feeling of emptiness washes over him as it does whenever he recalls Hank nearly falling off the rooftop or the dread that accompanied Simon’s temporary departure. It reminds him of the frozen Zen garden he abandoned. It reminds him of Amanda and of his sole gravestone keeping a residence in the icy prison that was once inside his mind. It keeps him there and reminds him that he will do this again tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. Every day he rises and rests in a pattern deeply memorized only to begin with Hank’s timely morning piss. At night, he returns to this. Staring into the darkness, he shivers. It’s very robotic. And Connor hates it.  


_Sleep Mode Complete._

 

* * *

 

 

11:37a

January 09, 2040

Location Detroit Police Headquarters

 

Hank and Connor are inside the evidence room of their latest Red Ice case. The mangled body of Android Model TX5410 lies along a wall surrounded by a few loosely connected pieces of evidence gathered from the prior Red-Ice related material. Notably, there’s a collection of notebooks written in an unknown language with bold and sharp letters indiscernible from any known language Connor has downloaded to understand. A map of the greater Detroit area lies here with red pins randomly scattered across where Red-Ice was discovered. Additionally, crime-scene photos from Connor’s memory lie neatly space before them in a grid. The only photo purposefully enlarged is one of a man whose corpse has the word “Traitor” messily carved into his back. His is the first human death involving Red-Ice.

 

“Playback the clip of that girl's death again.” Hank stands crossed-armed beside Connor at the computer console in the middle of this room. Connor enters a few keys and shows Hank his memory of the data he sequenced from TX5410 and displays it on a holoscreen before them.

 

The visual components of TX5410 are badly damaged. She had been shot several times across the body where 22 out of the 38 total bullets were focused on just her head. Broken static and brief images of a wet concrete floor play for some time where the body was ultimately found abandoned in a parking garage. The clip, although brief, shows her falling down into a puddle of water looking down at the floor before the file is completely damaged.

 

“Stop, right here. Can you zoom in on that.” Hank points to the puddle that TX5410 is laying in. “You’re sure there’s no audio?”

 

Connor leans over the keys and turns on the audio. The faint sound of wind passing through the parking garage plays on the speakers. “All audio prior to this point in time is missing. I’ve analyzed the sound and determined it to be a mild breeze.”

 

“No, there, in the reflection of the water,” Hank stands before the holoscreen pointing up. Connor squints as he motions his hand in a circle around a ripple of water at the edge of the video. “That’s her talking.”

 

“Hank, what are you-”

 

“Listen, kid, there may be audio we can't hear. I'm telling ya those ripples are her saying something.”

 

Connor isolates the movement of the ripples and enlarges it. He runs the video through motion detection and cross checks it with known samples of audio clips. The computer generates a simulated audio wave based off of the movement of the ripples. Connor looks up to see Hank smirking. He plays the generated audio.

 

Static messily rumbles through the speakers. Connor cancels out the interference and increases the frequency.

 

_“Ca…..tc…. Ou… Nd…”_

 

Connor excitedly plays it back, blue flushing across his cheeks. This is the first break they've had on this case in months. Every new crime scene and every new case related brought new levels of confusion and frustration. There's never any DNA left, no fingerprints, no identification. Just a bunch of Android bodies with traces of the same strand of Red-Ice that the first human death had on him too.

 

_“Cat… cho… und…”_

 

“Catch Hund?”

 

“No,” Connor replays the clip. “The word is _Hound_. As in a dog trained to pursue game by either sight or scent.”

 

“Catch Hound.” Hank stares at the audio waves. His hands on his hips. “What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“There's a very big dog on the loose.”

 

“Son, I swear to god.”

 

The doors to the evidence room open up and Gavin saunters in sipping out of his coffee cup. “If it ain't tweedle dee and tweedle dum.”

 

Hank rolls his eyes. “Who the fuck let you outta the zoo long enough to teach ya how to talk.”

 

Gavin glares at them from behind his cup and stands before their evidence wall looking at the collection of photos. “Impressive stuff you got here, Hank.”

 

“ _We_ got here.” Connor moves to stand beside him, arms crossed behind. “Is there something you want from us?”

 

Gavin turns away, his hand out before him. “Relax there robot. I'm not here to start nothin’.” He walks back out the door and holds it open, turning back in. “One thing though. Chief said there's a floater covered in Red-Ice in the morgue for you two. You're gonna want to check it out.”

 

“What?! When did it get here?” Hank presses a few keys on the computer to close up everything they've collected.

 

“Not that long ago, like two hours?”

 

Connor’s LED circles blue trying to retrieve any notifications or alerts from the Chief for them that he might've missed. There isn't any.

 

“And you only alert us now?”

 

“I was on lunch. Now I'm not.” Hank raises his hand to yell something out but Gavin waves instead. “You might want to hurry, the damn thing’s ready to pop.”

 

Connor and Hank run past Gavin smirking in the hallway. Around a few corridors and down a flight of stairs the doors to the morgue lie and wait. Pushing past them they enter a spacious, cold, and bright room where several coolers and screens line the walls displaying the bodies and reports of the individuals. Several carts full of medical equipment, scales, power tools, and vials also occupy the space. They see the several medical students crowded around one of the bodies centered in the room.

 

“Okay everyone, back it up, back it up.” Hank pushes the excitedly whispering away. “This is a body, not an amusement park.” One of the students accidentally elbows him shuffling around. “Alright move it or I cuff ya.”

 

The students part ways under the threat and the detectives see the fuss. Some parts of the floater are covered in crystalized Red-Ice and while others are covered in barnacles, seaweed, and various other trash dragged through the river. His body is greenish purple covered in bruises and decay. Not to mention he's completely naked and spread eagle; inflated like a microwaved sausage ready to burst. Once the room is clear of med students they take a cautious step back when they see the floater’s body groan and quake under the pressure of the expanding gases.

 

Hank places an arm against Connor's chest when he tries to get closer to inspect. “Don't even think about it.”

 

Connor reads aloud the clipboard hanging off the gurney. “Desmond Huxley, 47, discovered by a fisherman approximately 8:34a today. Known drug runner under the Black Tag Mafia. Cause of death-”

 

“Asphyxiation. Poor guy had to suffer through it.”

 

They turn around to see Eve wearing full scrubs and a lab coat. Her bruises and scars that Connor saw the other day are hidden under the disguise of an Android hologram. If it weren't for the crutches she's carrying around she'd otherwise look completely healthy. She's looking down on a tablet she's carrying in her free hand.

 

“I haven't had the time to recover the item lodged in his throat with all of my students crowding-” Eve’s voice catches in her throat when she sees them. The grip on her tablet teeters on cracking. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

 

“Hon, do you need us to leave? We can come-”

 

“Just- give me a sec? ‘Kay?” She holds a hand out when Hank tries to move closer. She holds her head up and wills her tears from falling. She whispers, “I’m okay, I’m okay…., okay.”

 

She takes a few more deep breaths before coughing. “Okay, okay. I’m good. Yeah, good.”

 

Using her crutches, she hobbles opposite the detectives around the floater. “The victim was brought in earlier today. I still need to run some tests on him to determine the full extent of injuries and collect possible evidence that might’ve not washed away in the river.”

 

“Ms. Kamski, how are you-” Connor holds out his hand and she flinches. “I apologize, I meant no-”

 

“No, no. Detective,” Eve weakly laughs, looking away. “It’s me. Just,” She sighs. “Please, don’t worry about it. I’m here to work not to get emotional. I have a job to do after all.”

 

“I didn’t think I’d see ya here. I heard Steve was retiring a few weeks ago. I didn’t know you were taking his place.” Hank nods. “You’ve set this place up nicely. Hell of a lot better than the shit hole it was before.”

 

Eve smiles, keeping her eyes away from Connor. “I’m quite proud of my little lab. I reorganized it, included forensic internships with nearby medical schools, and fully integrated the medical diagnostics with smart technology so my students can learn and solve alongside real cases in real time. I-” She sighs. “The Chief liked what I did at my old department and thought it would translate well here.”

 

“By the sound of it, it seems like you have done well to make this place a source of pride and achievement for both yourself and the department.” Connor offers a warm smile. Eve glances over and quickly looks down.

 

“Y-yeah. It took some convincing but the Chief is happy with the results.” She places the tablet alongside the floater on the gurney and leans her crutches against the metal table. She places her hands on the table and places her weight on her left side, sighing. “It’s been a struggle.”

 

“With this?” Hank twirls his hand around, pointing to the lab, “Or that,” He points to the crutches.

 

“Can we not right now?” Eve rolls her shoulders. She glances up at Connor and looks back to the ground. “I don’t wish to discuss myself right now. There’s literally a body right here that I need to process. Let me just give you the information and let me do my job. Please.”

 

Hank looks to Connor who’s LED circles in shades of yellow. Connor places his hands behind himself. Hank clears his throat. “You’re right. Absolutely right. For now, let’s see what Huxley’s got for us hmm?”

 

Eve grabs a pair of curved tongs lying on alongside several other tools on a cart beside them. She pushes back Huxley’s head, exposing his mouth, and shoves the tongs into his throat. Hank jumps when the body groans again. Eve smiles. “He’s not quite ready to go, I assure you.”  


In a quick motion, she pulls the item lodged from his throat. Another large chunk of Red-Ice covered in various fluids and flesh hangs from the end of her tongs. She tosses it into a pan. “I don’t know where he got so much of this stuff on him. This drug is very hard to produce let alone produce enough of it to form crystals this big.”

 

“Unless it’s being manufactured.” Hank holds the pan with the crystallized drug under a light; inspecting it.

 

“We’ve developed a theory that a drug-ring exists somewhere in the city where Red-Ice is being mass produced in a controlled setting. I believe that finding a dealer would lead us to a location.”

 

“Except everybody we’ve got was a runner for it.” Hank inspects the chunk of Red-Ice in the pan.

 

“Was?” Eve takes down some notes on her tablet. “As in?”

 

“There hasn’t been a body we’ve found alive or partially functioning.” Hank hands the pan to Connor to inspect. “Something’s getting this city from the inside out.”

 

Connor holds the pan close to see the Red-Ice sparkle under the lights. His LED circles blue as he scans the body.

 

_Reconstruction Sequence Initiating_

 

_The bruises on the body are apparent underneath the Red-Ice crystals and show various stages of healing. Crystallization occurred after death. The wounds inflicted on the mouth and throat occurred near or at the time of death. Marks to the neck belonged to a short but wide set of hands at a downward angle. The pattern of crystallization indicates that the body was dumped and Red-Ice in liquid form spilled on one side from above at a steady rate due to the amount. Based on the discoloration present in the legs and back, this body was moved and settled several times before being dumped. Visual analysis of the Red-Ice matches samples collected at the other scenes. Various marine life stuck to the victim’s clothing suggests he was dumped just north of the bridge where a park lies only to have been carried further south to his eventual discovery based on the collection of dead leaves on his shoes matching trees found there and nowhere else along the river._

 

Connor takes this opportunity to scan Eve as well.

 

_Android disguise and layers of clothing hide any other possible bruising or injury marks. Her weight is distributed to rest on her right side; possible soreness may persist in the human-left leg. Disheveled hair and dark circles under the eyes tell of sleepless nights and difficulties in preparing for the day. Coffee stains along the lab coat and mismatched socks verify this claim. Ink streaks persist along her left hand indicates issues with writing. Is she not left-handed? Body is purposefully angled and eyes downcasted away from him indicating an emotional disturbance. Heart Rate at 115 bpm; stress is present._

 

_Emotions Detected: Friendly, Timid, Fear_

 

_Fear? What for? From me? What did I do?_

 

_Reconstruction Sequence Terminating_

 

“This is a very unusual case,” Connor places the Red-Ice pan down and curiously faces the body beneath him. He takes a cautious step back. “So many bodies are connected by this. Ms. Kamski, if you don’t mind, may you refresh us on the attraction to this particular drug?”

 

She fumbles a pen out of her left pocket and uses it to point along the body. “Red-Ice is known for creating a high similar to other drugs. Pupils are blown, decreased heart rate, pleasant hallucinations, extreme elation, completely removes any sensation to pain. This was initially designed to be an antidepressant and a painkiller. Unfortunately, it’s one of the most highly addictive drugs in recent years and once the high wears off you’ve become completely drained wherein the withdrawal experiences increased heart rates, frightening hallucinations, extreme depression, and high pain sensitivity. It was pulled out of testing early on. All Red-Ice found nowadays started from former patients or doctors from the trails trying to make a quick buck or two.”

 

Hank flinches when the body groans again. “Agh, Christ, would ya mind if we get him back in the coolers?”

 

“I only just started my autopsy on him.”

 

“There’s no need; I’ve already gathered everything that we need from him. I’ll send a report to the Chief.”

 

“What?” Eve grabs her crutches and opens a cooler door. “No, as Chief Medical Examiner I still need to do a full report. I cannot let you submit a half-complete report on my behalf based simply on observations without proper procedure. My body, my rules.”

 

“On the contrary, I am programmed with predictability, forensic, and deductive scanners that allow me to extensively analyze scenes and scenarios with great accuracy in real time. I’ve already collected enough relevant evidence to start searching for a potential dump site. I believe I’m more than capable of submitting an accurate report.” Connor steps out of the way as she wheels the body around.

 

She struggles to balance the gurney and her crutches. She stumbles for a moment, knocking the pen out of her hand; landing before Connor’s feet. Hank helps push from the other end as she guides the body inside the cooler.  

 

“Good. We'll review it after lunch. Kamski, we'll see ya around.”

 

“Wait!” Eve crosses her arms and stands opposite. This is the first time she looks Connor in the eyes. “What’s relevant evidence? I have a job to do and need to know if you have information that I don’t.”

 

Connor curiously looks down at her. “It is without question that eventually you would have arrived at the same conclusions as I. I'm sure both of our reports will match-”

 

“I have no doubts that our reports will match. I know how to do my job and I do it damn well.” Connor just stares at her. “We need to follow protocol and do a thorough search nonetheless for a perfect report. No mistakes.”

 

“I am simply speeding up the results. Your defensiveness serves no purpose.” Connor pats Hank on the shoulder and moves to exit.

 

“You’re seriously letting him leave without a proper autopsy?” She turns to Hank. He steps aside them with his hands before him.

 

“I’m not getting in the middle of this.” Hank shrugs. “The boy’s never failed me. If you still wanna poke around inside - that - be my guest. I ain’t stopping ya.”

 

Eve squares herself. She huffs, her eyes aflame.

 

“I know what I’m doing. I can handle this.”

 

“I never questioned-”

 

“The attacker was shorter than Huxley, strangling him from the ground.” Eve lowers her voice and glares at Connor. “He or she was able to crush his windpipe as they sat above him.”

 

Connor folds his arms behind himself and smirks. Is she seriously gonna start something? “A good theory, but inconclusive. The hand marks are those of a human male. Human females typically do not possess the strength needed to crush someone’s windpipe with their bare hands unless they’re properly trained to do so; the injuries are sloppy and suggest someone outside of military or formal technique possesses the necessary strength to strangle him.”

 

“How can you be so sure that the attacker was human?” Eve crosses her arms. “It’s not unheard of for Androids to kill humans.”

 

“You’re correct on this; yet wrong nonetheless.” Connor’s smirk grows when she angrily blushes. He enjoys rilling her up. “The size and length of the hand belong to no Android model ever created or otherwise registered in my database.” She opens her mouth to protest and Connor cuts her off. “Additionally, damage to Huxley’s mouth and windpipe would suggest that he and the attacker fought. After being weakened so, the attacker shoved the Red-Ice down his throat and used his strength to crush Huxley’s windpipe from two directions.”

 

“His injuries would also imply that only after he died was he exposed to the drug in liquid form, slowly crystalizing on top of him. He was dropped in the river near the north end of the city based on the red algae that prefer the contaminated waters sticking to his forehead. He was moved several times before being tossed due to the uneven patches of settled blood across his skin.”

 

“Your conclusions are correct but vague.”

 

“You jump to conclusions without proper merit! Go, search for the bastard who did this but _I_ will submit this report in its entirety.”

 

Connor swipes his finger on the brownish slime covering the Red-Ice crystal sitting in the pan. Its stickiness shines in the light and lazily slides down his finger.

 

“What the fuc- argh, goddamit!” Hank takes a deep breath and looks away as Connor takes the biological sample in his mouth to process. Eve stares gapingly as he does.

 

Connor’s LED circles blue when the analysis is complete. “Blood Alcohol level still present in his blood indicates he was at 0.17%; he was heavily intoxicated. He was also on roxies and has traces of THC in his system as well as painkillers for an injury to his ankle.” Connor raises his voice and places his hands on his hips. Eve’s breath hitches when she sees his LED rapidly circling yellow, she looks away. “If you still want to be an ass about letting us help you, be my guest! I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me for agreeing with you!”

 

Hank tries to protest but his words fall on deaf ears.

 

“I don’t understand why you think you can undermine my authority!” Eve takes a few steps back. “Thank you for being there when I woke up from the accident a few days ago but I didn't want your help then and I don't want it now!” Eve steadies herself on her crutches. “I'll have the report properly written and sent out later today. Thank you, gentlemen.”

 

Hank stands beside him and pats his shoulder. Connor’s LED continues circling yellow. “Kid,” he whispers, “Not everyone ya meet’s gonna like ya. Come on, let's cool off some steam.”

 

Fuck that.

 

Connor hardens his gaze and refuses to budge under Hank’s grip. He bends down and retrieves the pen forgotten by his foot. “Kamski, you dropped this.”

 

She turns around just as he tosses the pen. Reflexively she grabs it from her right hand. The Android hand.

 

“I find it fascinating, Doctor, that despite your ardent attempt to use your left-hand today you instinctively use your right hand to catch that.” Eve’s face reddens and she stares down her android hand. She’s oblivious to Connor slowly walking closer with his hands crossed behind himself. “Your refusal to allow aide is unproductive. It would seem you have issues with your dominant hand being non-human. If you are having a problem adjusting I advice that you seek a professional to speak. We do not have to like each other but we do have to work with each other; _you must remain calm_ as we work together on this case.”

 

Eve’s eyes glaze over as his words pass by over her like the breeze in a storm. Forgotten and ignored for the thunder coming forth. All she can focus on is his words.

 

_You must remain calm_

 

_Remain calm_

 

_Remain_

 

_Calm_

 

_And be dragged under the waters_

 

Eve gaps and slaps Connor across the face. Hank and Connor are too stunned to move as Eve’s eyes refocus and notice the blue mark she left across Connor’s cheek. She looks down and sees her android hand turning blue with the force of the impact. She takes a shaky breath and protectively clutches her hand close to her chest.

 

“I don't- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” She looks to the floor and gathers her crutches. “I’ll leave you to your work Detectives. I haven’t been- yeah, okay, bye then.”

 

Eve hurries out of the room. Hank places a hand to Connor’s shoulder when he moves to go after her. Connor rubs his face and looks back, confused. Hank smiles but his mirth doesn’t show in his eyes. “Son, she’s been through a lot in the past few days. It’s best we all take some time to unwind.” He pushes Connor’s hand away from his cheek. “Christ, she got a good one on ya, didn’t cha?”

 

Connor squirms under the scrutiny. “I may have warranted such a response. I will apologize soon. I do not wish to make enemies out of her.”

 

“Gavin’s enough of a dick as it is for the whole damn precinct.”

 

Connor chuckles. “He’s certainly a lot to handle.”

 

Hank scoffs and pushes Connor’s jaw to the side to see the injury. He tsks when Connor squirms. “Hey, quit your bitchin’, just tryin’a see if you need a doc.”

 

“My scans are completely normal. It just - stings a bit.”

 

Hank, satisfied with what he sees, nods. “Well, you two nerds were duking it out. Kinda surprised - wait, woah, you felt that? You feel pain?”

 

Connor leads them out of the morgue, Hank closely behind. “Well, yes. I can feel pain.”

 

“Huh. I thought you said-”

 

“I may be an android Hank but I do feel more than emotional pain. I can feel my surroundings. I know what is and is not pleasant to experience.”

 

“Agh, no I meant. Fuck,” Hank sighs. “Are you okay?”

 

“Oh.” Misinterpreted social cues. He needs to work on that. Shit. “Yes. I am fine. I hope that Ms. Kamski is alright too.” They enter into the main lobby of the precinct and head out the doors and onto the streets. “I’ll have to ask her why she decided to slap me.”

 

Hank shrugs. “Let me tell ya something about people; especially after trauma, ‘kay?” Connor nods. “Sometimes it’s easier to be angry at something than it is to be afraid. You want my advice, son, back off. It’ll feel like confrontation if you don’t.”

 

Connor simply nods. They head down to the nearest diner and grab a bite to eat. While Hank happily talks about the new information regarding the case or how they have a lot of work piling up on their desk, Connor cannot forget the feeling he got from Eve. Once again she’s scared of him. Or at least, he’s certain she’s unsure of him. Understandable. He doesn’t want anyone to be afraid of him. He’s not a monster. He’s a cop - a detective. Although it isn’t inherently part of his design, it’s his goal to be a peacekeeper, a solver, and a protector. Connor happily responds to Hank’s questions and enjoys his company throughout the day.

 

Later, when they return to their shared apartment and Hank retires with a bouncing Sumo to his room, Connor will return to his pristine bed that’s as crisp and maintained as the day Hank unfolded them out of their packaging. In his bed, he will stare up at the ceiling that never changes in a bed that doesn’t remember his shape wearing clothes that do not dirty. He will recharge, repair, and renew. Ready to begin the day, he will save his thoughts on Eve later. For now, inside the diner, as Hank bites into another french fry dusted in salt and hot grease, Connor can only smile because his friend is here and present with him because tonight when he’s all alone he’ll look back on this memory and be grateful that he has someone like Hank in his life. He does not wish to be feared or forgotten. With Amanda, it was easy for her to remind him of his temporality and of his limitations. Here, amongst friends, it feels natural to be present.

 

It feels strangely, human.

 

For that, Connor sleeps peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, I'll bring back the OG Nerd Kamski for a brief visit as well as the lovely Chloe-sisterhood. Also, I hope that you're liking Eve. She's a bit moody but that's sort of expected after everything. I also hope that it came across that Connor is just trying to be a cinnamon roll but is accidentally a sinnamon roll sometimes. At times this will feel Sherlock-esque so be prepared for comedy and shenanigans! Lastly, I've been working on this chapter for what seems like forever now, I'm sorry if this feels a bit rushed. I just really want y'all to read what I know before I get too ahead of myself.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try my best to update regularly. I enjoy writing long chapters as much as I enjoy reading them so rest assured your wait will be rewarded. Sorry if this introduction to Eve and the whole concept seems weirdly OOC for the characters. I just wanna see my boy Connor get all the love he deserves in ways that others on this site have similarly done. Please tell me what you think! I wanna know if y'all're enjoying this narrative as much as I am :)


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